


A Tentacle Named Jimmie

by Sufferando



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Handholding, Love, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:10:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sufferando/pseuds/Sufferando
Summary: Growing up is hard and relationships are harder, especially when horrors from beyond the realm are trying to get you a girlfriendA thank you to Cirno for the inspiration





	A Tentacle Named Jimmie

A man, a distant man, a man distant from his only reality. He knows that he’s stuck and growns to himself. “Why is my life like this?” he says under his breath. “Because you keep talking to yourself,” says a voice from across the field. The man jolts to his feet and tries his best to dust off his suit from the dirt he sat upon. “Father!” the man squeals. “Good god man, you’re gonna dirty your pants.” Grabbing him by his collar, the man proclaiming to be his father begins to smack him across his arse. A cloud of dust seems to encircle both of them. “Please father, this is embarrassing!” the scrawny man attempts to yank himself away. “Oi, what do you have to be embarrassed by?” the father continues his smacking, “You might be exposed in a field but it’s on our property.” Still struggling, the man is able to break free. He stumbles a bit forward and catches his balance as he turns to face his father. Making sure he tightens his tie, “What’s the issue? We’re gonna be sitting down most of the time anyway.” He takes the quarters of his jacket and lifts them up like wings. While he flaps more dust begins to fly off making his father cough. Not quite violently but enough to send him into a shock, “NIGEL!”. The man startles back, trying his best not to fall on his arse to face yet another cleaning. The father tries to compose himself, cutting his cough to stand face to face with the man now known as Nigel. “Listen, tonight you’re gonna go act like you’re having fun so you can look happy so that some nice girl can notice you,” He clutches both his shoulders “You’ll date that girl so you don’t look like a psychopath, always talking to yourself and just writing in your journal.” Looking down at his hands, his father releases himself and begins back the direction he came. “See you back at the car.” Nigel watches for a moment till he sees him disappear whereby he picks up a rock, throwing it at a tree. Nigel knew his father meant well and just wanted him to live some type of reality. But he could never understand where his harshness came from. “Bastard”, he walks in the direction to the family estate and car. 

A festive event is taking place. Many men are wearing suits that stand out from the nightlife background, only matching with the dress on the girl clutching their arm. Then there’s Nigel, sitting stock still at a table, with a tie and shirt combination a drunkard said was the “Cat’s Pajamas”. ‘Well if a foreigner liked it, then it must have some appeal’ Nigel thought to himself while sitting at the table alone. He looked to his left to see his father waving. Starting to wave back he noticed it was not meant for him. Turning back he finds a blonde staring him down, with his mother just out of his sight. “Uh hi,” Nigel’s voice being more masculine than his actual body language. “Hi” with a whimper of a response the girl smiles back. “So,” Nigel pauses as to think of a response, even with the crowded floor his pause seems to make the whole room fall silent, “what do you wanna do with the rest of your life?” The girl’s smile turns to a frown as she is confused by his statement “What do you mean?” turning her head slightly. “You know, anything you wanna do before you die? So when you get to the pearly gates you don’t say something like ‘I’ve wasted my life’?” The girl begins to clutch her purse “Um, have a family but surely after I’ve done everything I’ve wanted to do.” “Oh so like a bucket list?” “Kind of, I want to just to go see everything and see how happy the world is!” the girl regains her smile. “Well that’s unrealistic.” The girl dips to a frown again, “I beg your pardon?” Nigel scoots closer to the girl “The world is shit and any amount of trips won’t make you happy.” Stumbling on her words the girl replies with “H-hey, don’t tell me what is when you can’t even get a date without your parent’s help.” Clutching her purse with one hand takes a glass of processed fruit drink and throws it in Nigel’s face. Standing up and walking away as Nigel tries to compose himself. Reaching into his breast pocket to reveal a small journal, writing down, date story, perhaps some dark comedy elements. From the paper on the table emerges a shadow from behind, turning to reveal Nigel’s father. 

“Nigel, your mother and I love you very much but please. Stop trying to write the perfect life and actually try to have one.” The family car scutters aways as Nigel can hear the weeping tones of his mother. Left to the city, Nigel goes to where he thinks home is and walks into the night. Pulling out his journal Nigel begins to contemplate the problems of his life only to realize that the pages rip and tear from the sticky substance he was splashed with. Angered by this, he casts it into a nearby puddle. Causing a ripple, not just from the pool but seemingly the whole of the road besides him. Catching this, he proceeds to bend down. Extending his finger he tries to touch the ripple. Nearing ever so close. So close even the waves almost touch his finger tip. “Hey kid!” A voice calls to the side and rockets the young mishap to his side to find a man. Not much taller than Nigel, sporting a trenchcoat and some type of mask/hat combination. Looking him up and down he notices how the folds of his coat seem to move. “Are you harboring snakes my good man?” The man moves closer “Harboring something more potent than snakes my young friend.” Facing the man at eye level the makeshift mask is seen dripping, falling to Nigel’s shoes. Seemingly sticking him in place “Uh, Cold night sir?” The man’s slurred speech is prominent, as if every word threatens Nigel with a spit ball to the face “Quite warm, my warm-blooded friend.” “What brings you so close to my face tonight?” Slowly trying to back away only to find if he were to run he’d walk home in socks. “I have a gift for you.” Bracing for the worse, the man reaches into his coat to reveal the journal. Seemingly to have survived the tears but now covered with a different type of ooze. “Uh, t-thanks,” The man cuts off Nigel’s stamper “I’m a big fan of your stories young Nigel,” The coat’s movement grows faster “I want to help you make these stories come true.” Caught off guard, a smirk arises on Nigel, “A fan? What makes you a fan? These are my hopes and troubles. There’s nothing there, just a fantasy.” Nigel swipes the journal. “Oh ho ho, please don’t be so humble. I know what troubles can come from a rich family, I want to give you that push so you can break free,” The masked man gurgles “Something you could never do by yourself.” Nigel pushes the man back “What is that supposed to mean?” The shape of the hand prints stain on the man’s coat as it swells faster “I’m giving you an ultimatum, I’ll make one of your dreams come true,” The man begins to back Nigel towards the vibrating road “Let's start with Jimmie shall we?” A force knocks Nigel back as he falls back only to be facing the sky. Being constricted by what feels like rope as the substance that was on the journal soaks his clothes. “But remember, the easy way will eat you alive!” A force casts Nigel into the road revealing a pool of empty space. The constricting power helping to drown him into a death like rest. 

A knock at the door awakens Nigel from his bed, shooting up as if he were trying to escape the sea. Nigel didn’t remember much of what the man said but all he knew was that something definitely happened last night. Getting up from his bed to only notice a perfect silhouette of his body made from ooze and water. Almost artistic in a way where he did not wanna remove the bed sheets. “Nigel! Jimmie’s at the door!” awakened from his artistic optimism he goes to the voice that came from downstairs, associating it with his mother. He notices a mirror in the hallway, seeing his pasty skin was looking whiter than usual. “NIGEL! Don’t be rude!” Seeing the repercussions he could face, he quietly ignores this and proceeds to the voice. Reaching the front door he encounters his mother as he suspected but finds her standing next to a girl. Now not a girl tough to describe but one that everyone can see. She is the girl of dreams, whether of Nigel or the reader of this tale. “Oh my god,” with his mouth gasping for air, as if he was underwater again, he stares back at the girl he wrote about last month. Every detail that was described by a failed writer was present. “Is that your idea of a hello?” his mother cries to him. “Well, I’m just perplexed why she’s standing in front of me.” snapping back at his mother. “Well she’s your sweetheart but with that attitude, I don’t know how you ever kept one.” his mother pouting and walking in the other direction. The girl starts to giggle “Oh please, Mrs. North. It’s because I love him.” Nigel almost falls to his arse as he tries to pick himself up “What the hell are you?”. “Darling if you keep tripping like that you’ll surely break something,” the walks over to help Nigel as she holds him closer to her “You look so pale, are you sure you’re not sick? Oh, wait it’s because you’re with me.” She holds him tighter to her, embracing him with a similar force he felt last night. “Oh god,” Nigel seems to cringe. “What’s wrong? You’ve been chosen to have a dream come true. If you don’t like it then just walk out that door.” She is able to keep a grasp on him as she lifts him, turning him towards the front door. The door has somehow changed its form than Nigel used to remember. Heaving back and forth as if it were breathing with ooze leaking from the bottom. But the window of the door showing a horizon of a bright and lively grass field. “Uh, this is getting strange. Maybe I just some fresh air for a moment.” The girl lets Nigel go. He composes himself and proceeds to walk towards the door. Nearing the doorknob, it twitches as if wanting to open itself. About to clutch it ever closing to escape his dreams. “Would you like to read me some of your journal?” Nigel stops himself and turns on a dime towards the girl. Walking near her, putting his arm around her shoulder “Join me,” as they proceed to the living room.

Minutes, hour, days, or at least that’s what it seems like. Nigel talking to Jimmie as the universe seems to move without consideration of the two. They talk as any couple would but the designs of her seem to be so perfect that talking is like a drug. Slowly, Nigel’s skin seems to peel away, his skin turning green, and even his jaw becoming at an angle. At one moment, he points to page and his finger falls off as it hits the page. The both turning to one another, they laugh as if it was just a spill on the rug. 

Time passes, seemingly without any kind of stopping point. Nigel’s perfect woman had been brought to life, keeping him trapped in his reality. As the universe itself seemed angry with the couple a knock came from the door again. Turning around to see the man he met the night before. Dripping from every conceivable crack on his body as the floor is covered in the similar slime that was identified before. Nigel trying to pass this off as a minor inconvenience turns back to discover his love is now gone. “You bleeding idiot,” the man walks forward as he towers over Nigel. A wave of slime splashes onto him as more continues to fall down upon his suit “Listen you lazy twat, don’t you see what’s happening to your body?” Nigel looks down to examine his deteriorating skin and subsequent missing finger. He looks up to the man “Nope!” as his eye pops out with almost comedic timing. “You’re more important to the worms that’ll be feasting on you soon than any sort of human on this plain.” Gawking back at the man “You know I didn’t agree to this.” Swirling in anger the man knocks over a nearby table and accidentally knocking off his makeshift mask. His back now facing Nigel, as it seems that mask was a barrier for more substance pouring out. It looks as if there’s just a headless man standing in front of him, “Um, you alright?” From the back, a long and pink tentacle emerges from where his head used to be, still with the hat on. The tentacle more acting like a whip as it swirls around the room, knocking over various photos and nicknacks. Falling back onto the floor Nigel tries his best to crawl away. A foot meets his face as the man is now standing right in front of him. The man picks him up by his collar and throws him into a chair “Your fantasy is rotting you boy,” Nigel replies instantly “I know but I’m happy.” Flabbergasted the tentacle beings to shout back, “Happy? That wasn’t the point! Go explore reality, quit living in your head.” With one eyebrow raised “Why?” If tentacle could show anger that’s what the being expressed, “WHY?! You know what, fine live in your fantasy but I’m gonna make you suffer for it.” The tentacle man stomps his foot down, turning the floor into a similar wave that was seen on the road in the previous reality. Nigel lifts his feet up onto the chair he was placed in. The man sways his tentacle again as he grasps Nigel with it and blunges him down into the depth. Again, sending Nigel into the death like sleep he experienced before. The quietness of the universe somehow dulling him to sleep.

A knocking doesn’t wake up the witless man but rather a subtle tapping. Re-Emerging from his bed in similar fashion he investigates the noise as he finds himself downstairs again. He sees the back of Jimmie, hunched over with small droplets of water going down to the floor. With the faint hints of sobbing, he perceives that she might be sad. Walking closer he calls out to her “What’s wrong Jimmie?” She yells back “Don’t come any closer!” as he stops in his tracks. “Don’t hate me, please.” She cries back. “You’re perfect, I don’t know how I could ever do that.” Nigel’s attempt to sound like a romantic. Lifting her head up it’s revealed that her head is also a tentacle. Staring back at him and dripping in previous fashion to the man before. “Why didn’t you just go find a real girl? Now you’re rotting and stuck with me.” Jimmie turns back to sob more. Nigel steps softly forward and embraces his tentacled love “Because you’re perfect.” Looking down she notices Nigel looking up at her towering figure. “But I’m a tentacle,” she whimpers. Nigel looks down to see his finger still missing and the fact that he only has 0/50 vision, “And I’m worm food,” And with the tentacle sniffles and embraces him back. “Shall we go for walk?” as Nigel stands up, reaching out his hand. She takes him on his offer and the walk towards the front door. Opening the door to reveal the vastness of the universe. The two embrace once more as they both take a leap into the great beyond, floating wherever they go. Their senses dulled by the sense of indolence.


End file.
